All Work and No Playstation Makes Me the Least-Favorite Child

A few years ago, before I left for college, I wrote a post detailing how a child knows when their parents are anxious for them to leave for college. (Motherly Love) Little did I know that this anti-sentiment would continue long after I moved away, got my own house, and learned to do my own laundry.

The Conflict began when I mentioned that my Playstation 2, which had been functioning mainly as a dust-collecting shelf decoration in the 2 years since my graduation, would better fulfill its purpose if it were moved to my house at college. This house not only includes me but three of my frat-boy friends, who undoubtedly would relish the opportunity to have yet another diversion from their studies in the house. I even got Boyfriend to admit that yes, he might spend more time over at my place if we had ample zombie-killing opportunities (which we were heretofore lacking).

My parents surprisingly agreed. So I began merrily packing up the various odds and ends of the PS2 (what ARE those little extraneous connectors for, anyways?) when Little Sister came waltzing in.

"Are you taking that?!?" she shrieked in a pitch that only little sisters can attain, and most train whistles passionately envy.

And with that, the doors of zombie-killing magic slammed in my face. My parents, now realizing that their precious baby daughter's happiness was threatened, immediately revoked their decision. What ensued was a heated and ultimately tearful debate, which culminated in my dad stating that "Emily works extremely hard all the time, so she deserves to have it if she wants it".

Ummm...excuse me? Hold the phone? Stop the train? Pull the brake?
There we have it folks: proof that I am the least favorite child. Because once your father admits that your sister works harder than you, thereby deserving to claimjump your dearest posessions, its all over.

And it's not the first time, either. When I left for college, they decided to give her my beautiful shiny red Corolla, Petey. This car was more than a rudimentary four-wheeled means of transport from A to B: He had actually saved my life once. Now it was my Playstation. What's next, my college fund?

Also: My vintage Mickey Mouse shirt occasionally appears "mistakenly" in her laundry pile. Foul Play? I believe so.